Out of It
by ekrlhgirjefoj
Summary: Six months have passed since Bob's death. Johnny's mostly dead, I guess, as he is dependent on the life support machine and cannot eat, talk, or even breathe. As a result, Dally has not died yet. Cherry's over Bob. Darry and Ponyboy still have an icy relationship. People betray each other. Stress builds up until Ponyboy finally breaks. Spoilers for the actual book (duh).
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

I knew Cherry wouldn't be in this mood for any longer.

Okay, I'll admit I've been watching her whenever I could. But just hear me out.

I'm a greaser. She's a Soc. I can't exactly say hi to her in public, for too many reasons to say.

Anyways, it had been a few months since Bob had been killed by Johnny. About half a year. Johnny was still hanging in there at a hospital, clinging at the last strings of life. He had died, yeah, his body couldn't operate on its own. But he was still hooked up to the life support machine.

We weren't ready to let him go.

We didn't see Dally anymore, but we knew that he was still recovering from half a dozen gunshot wounds. He wouldn't let the doctors see him, even claimed that he could fix it up himself. I didn't believe him, but nobody had invited me to his funeral yet. I stayed hopeful.

Cherry obviously was in love with Dally more than ever. She had told me that she was in love with him. She probably was back then.

She definitely was now.

Cherry never even pretended to mourn Bob—which I found awful. Not only was he one of her friends, but they were in the same gang and had _dated_ for who knows how long.

I guessed that she was going to end her "it's too soon to date anyone" faze soon enough.

I shook my head and looked up. I was in Soda's bedroom, his head resting on my lap. He lightly snored. Drool was spread around the lower right half of his face. His golden-brown hair was cut slightly above his shoulders, silky and for once – greaseless. His brown eyes were half-open, which I found creepy.

I averted my attention from his face. What time was it?

I glanced at the clock. It was still egg-stained, but I could still see the time: 2:34. It occurred to me that someone should clean that.

Darry walked into the room. "Hey Darry," I said lightly. Sure, I said it quietly because of Soda, but he could sleep through a bombing. I was quiet mostly because things were still awkward between us.

We hadn't actually fought since Sodapop had started crying and ran out of the house, but we tried to keep conversation between each other to a minimum—just in case.

Darry nodded. "Ponyboy." He didn't smile, but he never really did. I could tell he was happy anyways.

"What happened?"

"Someone wants to see you. Sherri Valance, the spy. She came to report what the Socs were doing, just in case we wanted to use her information to our advantage. She said she wanted to see you. Just talk." Darry didn't explain. He didn't roll his eyes when he said _just talk_. He didn't emphasize or exaggerate anything. His voice was smooth, fluent, and emotionless.

"You can just call her Cherry, you know," I told Darry. "Everybody does."

Darry fixed his ice cold eyes on me, except now his gaze wasn't as cold. It was naturally like that, but I could still sense some warmth. "And what good would that do? Classifying a girl on her hair color? Calling someone who betrays her own people by what she wants to be called?"

I was taken aback. I pushed Soda's head off my lap and crossed my legs. "It's just a nickname, you know."

Darry opened his mouth to say something, but didn't for a count of ten. Then he closed his mouth and took a breath. "Call her whatever," he said softly, and left the room.

I got up and headed towards the front door. Cherry was standing in the front, her long red hair piled up on top of her head, as if she was going to attend a ball or dance and did her hair beforehand. It was thick with products.

"Ponyboy," she said when she saw me.

"Cherry," I replied, watching her piercing green eyes.

"Can you meet me at the smoothie store tonight? At eight?" She grinned brightly and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Uh, yeah, sure . . . I guess," I said.

Cherry bounced on her heels giddily. "Yay! Okayyy, I'm gonna go now . . ." Her words slurred. Then, all of a sudden, she put a hand against her head and put all her weight on the wall next to her. "Ohhhh God . . ." she said. "Ponyboy!" she shouted gleefully, at least an octave higher than her usual voice. "Hiiiii Ponyboy. Your hair's so pretty . . . I wish I had long hair like that!" She laughed. "My hair goes up!" Cherry gestured to the hair piled on top of her head. "It's sooooooo . . . heavy." She stood up straight and tilted her head from side to side. "So heavy," she murmured.

And then she fainted. Her face fell against my chest and her weight collapsed on me. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, struggling to get her off me. Her hair added at least ten pounds.

"Gosh, Cherry, what happened?" She usually didn't act like this _at all_ , so the only explanation was that she got drunk.

But Cherry didn't drink, and it was about 2:45 on a Sunday afternoon. Who drank at that time?

I shook my head. "Darry!" I called. Darry rushed into the room at once. He must not have had anything better to do at the time. "Was she like this when you talked to her?"

Darry laughed—a rare happening. "Not really. She was awake."

"I mean was she all boozed up?"

"Yeah, but that didn't affect her giving information, did it?"

"No, I guess not. You still let her see me?"

"Pony, you're fourteen. I think you can handle one stoned Sherri. What did she want to say, anyways?"

My face turned red. "Asked me out. Smoothie shop at eight."

Darry pursed his lips. "Are you going?"

I chewed my lip for a second, then nodded. I didn't let Darry respond.

I left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

I didn't know what I was doing, but I had a vague feeling that I was supposed to be at the smoothie shop.

Ever since Bob had died, even though it may have seemed like I had moved on, I really hadn't. I couldn't handle being near the Socs, as word had gotten out that I had helped the greasers and now they were against me.

Even though I hated Bob for this . . . last night Marcia had told me to take a break, and then she took me to a bar.

I'll admit I was there for a few hours before she convinced me to actually drink, but 4am drinking isn't the best.

It turns out that I was an immediate addict. It was only for the night, because I knew what happened to people who gave into their urges. They would be worse off than me. Many things happened, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up on my bed at home, at around seven thirty.

I went to the smoothie shop and saw Ponyboy, looking a little confused and worried. I figured that I had invited him while I was drunk. Hopefully I wouldn't be too hungover during this smoothie . . . date? I didn't like Ponyboy in that way, though, so it would be awkward if that was what it really was.

"Hey, Pony," I said, waving my hand. Ponyboy searched around for a second before finding me, his eyes brightening when he did. He seemed to be thinking _oh thank god this wasn't a prank_.

"Cherry, hi," he said. I walked over and sat on the other side of the booth he was at. "Um, since you were late . . . I kinda thought you weren't coming and figured that since I was here . . ."

I cut him off. "You ordered a smoothie? That's fine, I'll just order another one." I put my hands on the table to stand up; not because I needed support—it was just a habit, but Ponyboy stopped me halfway. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back down.

"Uh, no, that's not exactly it." Ponyboy fidgeted in his seat. "I asked Soda to come."

"Oh," I said, my face reddening.

"No, it's fine, he said he wanted to stay with Darry for now."

"Oh, um, okay," I said. My face was as red as a strawberry by now, probably almost as red as my hair. (Okay, so it's not naturally this red. I mean it was when I was small, but then it started going blonde, so I dyed it. My nickname was already Cherry, I wanted it to stick for a reason, not because it's been my nickname for years.) Why did he bring this up, again? If Soda wasn't coming, there wasn't a point, was there? Oh never mind.

"So I called Two-Bit." Of course. Keith Mathews. Marcia liked him, I think. Not sure. You could never be sure. Not with the Socs. They always lied. You could never trust them.

I didn't have trust issues with _people_ in general. I had trust issues with Socs. I had never caught them lying, but I had lied to them. I was one of them. I wouldn't want _me_ as a friend, they were all the same. They were all like me. I was like all of them. It was just a matter of time before everyone found each other out and started screaming.

"Is he coming?"

"Maybe?" Ponyboy shrugged. Shrugging was weird. A way of showing that you don't know something by moving your shoulders up and down. People don't realize that while shrugging there is a certain facial expression that they make. It's not confused, but more like, _oh well_. Like pursed lips slightly curved up.

"Yay," I replied snarkily. "You know, this was supposed to be _our_ date. I just overslept. I was literally here five minutes late!"

"Twelve," Ponyboy said, reddening. "This is a date?"

"Oh, um." Why did I say that? I didn't even like Ponyboy like that. I loved Bob (and Dally when I was thinking straight . . .) "Not like that," I finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I mean, not in a romantic way. We were just hanging out, right, and it was supposed to be just the two of us."

His young fourteen year-old mind believed me, even though his face seemed to fall like thirteen stories.

Keith walked in. "Two-bit!" Ponyboy said almost too happily. Ugh, Keith.

"Hi Pony, hi Cherry," Two-Bit said merrily.

Why on earth would Ponyboy invite _him_ out of all people? I'd imagine that Ponyboy would prefer anyone: Soda, who was hot as James Dean; Darry, who was actually nice; Dally, who I would want to see if my life depended on it (if he gets out of his house anytime soon, that is); or Johnny, even, although he did kill my boyfriend. Anything was better than seeing the dude who Marcia liked. If Marcia liked someone, they were probably bad. She had a habit of not liking the 'good' guys. Why did she even like Two-Bit? He was out of shape, couldn't flirt if his life depended on it, and was too obsessed with blondes and Mickey Mouse for my taste.

"Hiya Two-Bit," I said. Ponyboy waved.

"Oh, um, Cherry," he said, as if just realizing that I was there. After _acknowledging_ my presence, too. "I see you came. Pony, should I leave?"

Ponyboy gave a slight nod of his head, probably hoping I don't see. Keith shrugged and left the room.

"Ponyboy," I said, a minute after. "Can I order my smoothie now?" This 'date' was already awkward. I wished that Two-Bit was here. I didn't hate him that bad, now that I thought about it. I mean, just because Marcia was in love with someone didn't mean I had to hate him. Did Marcia hate guys I liked?

Well, she did hate both Bob and Dally. That made us even, I guess.

"Sure," he replied.

I stood up and waved a waitress over. "Two strawberry smoothies, please."

The teenage girl in the short white skirt nodded and went to the counter to get us some smoothies.

She returned a few minutes later with two strawberry _milkshakes_. I didn't really mind, and Ponyboy said that he actually didn't like smoothies. He liked milkshakes.

"Well, I'm sorry I don't know what type of drink you like," I said.

"No, that's not what I mean. It's just that—"

"Oh, save it." I meant that he should save his breath because I knew what he meant, but he took it personally and stopped talking completely. "Ponyboy, that's not what I meant . . ." I started.

"Oh come on," he said. "You're not like Darry. You say what you mean. That's what I like about you."

 _Whoa_.

Okay, no, kid, I'm way older than you. Stop. Save your breath, and now I mean it. We're not a thing, we'll never be a thing, so shut up.

Ponyboy must've noticed something change about my expression, so he started to stutter. "No, that's not what I meant. As friends. That's what I like about you."

Oh.

He's playing hard to get, is he? Fine. I guess I don't really like him.

 _What am I saying? I never liked him. Never will. Not until Johnny resurrects Bob_.

"Yeah, okay," I said curtly. I took my smoothie and stood up. "We're not on a date."

"Are you serious Cherry?" he asked. "You're the one who called it a date, and now you're leaving after I give you a _friendly_ compliment? I know why Bob got drunk so often. He was so sick of you that he wanted a break. Or maybe he thought you'd see him and break up with _him_ so you don't have to do all the work. A last favor."

I don't know who started this, but now he was ranting at me like he did before. If I cried, history would repeat itself.

"But Ponyboy," I said, "we're friends."

"Stop! Just stop it!" He stood up as I simultaneously sat back down. "First you're all 'we're not on a date so don't talk to me more than necessary' and then you're like 'stop shouting at me, Pony, we're friends'!" His face was starting to turn red. I didn't start this, did I? I didn't do anything. I just . . .

No, I didn't. Ponyboy was doing all of it. I simply rejected a compliment. That wasn't so bad, was it? I didn't want to be _like that_ with him. I just wanted to be friends. Wasn't the "that's what I like about you" going too far?

Oh, who am I kidding, I knew nothing about this. Bob and I just got together one day and were like the couples in those movies. The constantly nagging at each other, insulting, but still loving couples.

"Pony, we are friends. You just can't compliment a girl saying something you like about her and add 'and that's what I like about you' unless she's your girlfriend!" I exploded. If Ponyboy wanted to rant, then sure. "You make it seem like everything's _my_ fault! Look, you're the one who got mad at _me_ first. We were all good before that. Perfect! And then you go and say 'that's what I like about you' and make it all awkward. After I tell you that's not what you're supposed to say to a friend, you explode on me!"

"You asked _me_ on a date! Look, Cherry, you may be older than me, but that's only by two years. I know more than you think I do. And I'm pretty sure compliments are _not_ rarities of the world." He walked out of the booth and left the shop.

I dropped my act.

 _At least I got him off my hands. He definitely does_ not _like me_. He liked me so much before. Now I could talk to Dally without him getting all defensive for Ponyboy.

Sure, I was out of breath and Pony was mad, but everything had gone my way in the long run.


End file.
